


To Ride On Shoulders

by Dameceles



Series: A Marriage Of States [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Childhood Memories, Family Feels, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 15:49:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6334933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dameceles/pseuds/Dameceles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were many moments where Marx was proud to be the oldest of King Garon’s children. More importantly was how he could be Camilla, Leo, and Elise’s big brother… even if it wasn’t always easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Ride On Shoulders

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aurumite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurumite/gifts).



> A gift fic, based on the prompt: _4 times being the eldest sibling was the best and coolest, and 1 time it wasn't._ Enjoy some Nohr sibs childhood moments!

The instructors had fetched the oldest Norhian prince because his youngest sister was being stubborn, claimed she’d refused any other partner for the lesson. With little more than a grunt his father than released Marx from his duties that day to attend to the wayward princess. Although as he’d left he’d heard the King muttering under his breath that the child had grown spoiled.

However, Elise’s sunny smile was undeniable when he’d entered into the ballroom. “Big brother Marx!” She had cried and run and hugged him with all her might- more strength than her small stature might suggest. It was hard for him not to still see her as a baby, loud in her upset and her joy. It made Marx very indulgent.

“I heard that I was the only dance partner you’d accept?”

Elise nodded, pigtails bouncing with the action. “Yep! You’re the best, dancing is fun with you. And the teachers won’t let me stand on their feet.”

Marx was tempted to tell Elise that she was growing bigger and heavier by the day. Instead he let Elise step onto the top of his boots, took her tiny hand in his, put a hand upon her side, and whisked his littlest sister through a waltz.

.x.X.x.

His youngest brother stood beside a corral full of horses. There were bays, chestnuts, dapples, and blacks led along the circular pen by the handlers. From what Marx could see all the horses had clean lines of the body and were built to carry a rider through the battlefield. A good warhorse had its price, even for royalty.

Yet Leo looked upon the animals with a skeptical expression. Though the skepticism vanished from his face when Marx came to stand beside him. The older Nohrian prince kept his tone even, "So, I've heard you intend to become a Dark Knight rather than Sorcerer. Congratulations, there's something special about the bond between a knight and his mount."

"Perhaps, but the only things I know of horses are from books." Leo huffed out a breath, then winced as though immediately regretting the action.

"Would you like some advice?" Again Marx kept his tone even, not wanting his precocious little brother to think he regarded him as wanting- nor desiring to give away how eager he was to lend help.

"Very well," the younger Nohrian prince acquiesced, though failed to disguise the excited gleam in his eyes.

So Marx discussed with him the merits of different breeds, their temperaments and constitutions. They talked over the fact that stallions had a more powerful charge which knights used to break up infantry lines, but mares could turn more quickly thus were preferred by riders who attacked from a range. In the end Leo chose a sturdy, black mare with a white star upon her forehead- Marx praised his brother's good taste.

.x.X.x.

The first time Marx had his heart broken was before he’d even come of age, by a nobleman’s daughter with ringlets that shone copper in the lantern light. It’d taken him months to gather the courage before he approached her, offered a single rose in admiration- and even still he’d stuttered the delivery of his practiced speech. The pretty girl had laughed full in his face, and Marx had been humiliated.

However, a prince of Nohr couldn’t hide no matter his wounded pride. But they couldn’t fault a squire for tending to the tack, and the floor covered by straw and sawdust hid fallen tears well.

Thankfully his eyes were dry when Camilla suddenly appeared, her gauzy dress out of place in spartan tack room. Marx made no comment as his sister sat down beside him on the bench and made small talk of how quaint the stables were compared to the mews. Then she abruptly changed subjects, “That girl is perfectly awful. Did you know that she once threw a cat out a window because she didn’t want its white hair to get on her black velvet dress?

“I’ve told everyone of that story. Along with the time she made snide comments when Daniela chose to wear trousers to the New Years’ ball instead of a gown... because that girl was obviously jealous that her own behind is far too flat to pull off such an outfit. And then there was that time-”

Marx interrupted and begged his sister not to share any more gossip, as he now felt the fool for being smitten with such a lacking individual. Though strangely the thought that Camilla had defended his honor in her own way warmed his heart, so he thanked her.

His sister just gave him a gentle smile. “The person who gets to hold your tender heart will be lucky indeed, dear brother.” And then they sat in companionable silence, Camilla not caring if the oil from handling the tack ruined her dress.

.x.X.x.

The guards at the gate gestured for him to halt. One of them demanded, “Your Highness, what business do you leaving the Northern Citadel?”

“I am going to visit family at Krackenstein Castle.” It would be the first time he went alone, but he’d visited plenty of times before. “What business do you have to stop the Crown Prince of Nohr?”

The guards bowed to that and opened the gates without further protest. Marx felt mighty that day, and sat tall in the saddle as he rode out by his own authority.

.x.X.x.

Only once did Marx ever wish that he hadn’t been born before the others, didn’t have the responsibilities as the eldest.

That day a woman condemned knelt low to the floor, not by her own choice but because the guards had forced her down. This was one of his father’s many concubines, one bold enough to publicly make an attempt on the life of Ektrina’s one and only living child- for such an affront the King had sentenced her to death.

“Take up that sword, my son. Show your siblings what it means to serve your kingdom.”

Beyond his sight, Marx heard a child crying, over where the other princes and princesses of Nohr had been gathered to witness the execution. He swallowed down his rising gorge and gripped Siegfried's hilt firmly, struggling with holding the sword aloft as it was longer than he was tall. When he brought the blade down on the woman’s exposed neck, Marx knew he’d do this a thousand times if it meant his brothers and sisters wouldn’t have to bloody their own hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed that mood whiplash! I’d been thinking on cutesy Nohr-sibling bonding moments for a while, but that one prompted regret also made me include a darker scene.
> 
> I thought about making this unaffiliated with my AMOS series, but honestly that’s where I spend most of my think-time with these characters.


End file.
